


The Argent-Hale Drinking Club

by eleanor_lavish



Category: Teen Wolf (TV) RPF
Genre: Bathroom Sex, Multi, Pining, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-25
Updated: 2013-02-25
Packaged: 2017-12-03 14:44:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/699381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eleanor_lavish/pseuds/eleanor_lavish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tyler gets plenty of time in with his boys, and he loves it, but he’s not going to pretend that he’s not <i>thrilled</i> when Ian and JR corner him on set one day and say “Hoechlin, come on, the Argent-Hale Drinking Club has approved you for membership. We’re heading to Murphy’s.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Argent-Hale Drinking Club

It’s not that Tyler doesn’t like hanging out with Dylan and Posey. He does. He loves those guys a lot, like long-lost brothers. 

But... he lives with them. With dirty socks and three-day-old pizza crusts and fights over the Xbox and the constant smell of pot. Tyler gets plenty of time in with his boys, and he loves it, but he’s not going to pretend that he’s not _thrilled_ when Ian and JR corner him on set one day and say “Hoechlin, come on, the Argent-Hale Drinking Club has approved you for membership. We’re heading to Murphy’s.”

*

Murphy’s is a dive that JR stumbled on in his exploration of the Atlanta area. It’s old school, with peanuts on the tables and waitresses who call you “honey.” It’s made for local boys and construction workers, and a few hearty girls who like local boys and construction workers. After the first few visits they go mostly unnoticed, and the waitresses seat them in the back, tucked into dark wood booths, away from prying eyes. 

Tyler loves Murphy’s for the company as much as the ambience and the cheap pitchers of beer. He and Ian have a rapport that comes from spending hours of downtime on set. Tyler knows that Ian is funny in a dry sort of way, knows about his family and his love of cooking and where he buys his signature hats. It’s good to get to know JR, though. 

Tyler has been acting for years, for a _ton of years_ , but he still loves JR’s stories about LA. JR has been bouncing between LA and Vancouver and Toronto and New York for the better part of two decades, and Tyler figures that’s the kind of career he’ll have. Hell, that’s the kind of career he _wants_. He knows Tom Hanks, and he also knows he is _no Tom Hanks_ , but he’s smart and dedicated and perfectly happy to take jobs as the villain in terrible Canadian teen dramas if it means good co-workers and a nice, steady paycheck. So yeah, he likes JR, likes sitting next to him, drinking a beer, feeling like he’s got a seat at the grown-up table. Finally.

*

Hilariously, the grown-up table is a lot like his underage frat house apartment some days.

“Hoechlin,” JR drawls, leaning into him. “Word of advice.” 

Tyler grins at him. “Shoot.”

“Never shoot anything that films in New Zealand, unless Peter fucking Jackson calls you himself. Trust me, you don’t want to end up in a toga. Back me up, Ian.”

“Hey!” Ian shouts across the table. “It was a sweet gig. And I had fucking fantastic legs when I was 22.”

“You have pretty fantastic legs now,” JR smiles, and takes a pull from his beer. Tyler tries not to think about Ian in a toga, and fails fantastically.

“Is that on Netflix? Because I need to know if it’s more or less ridiculous than what I’m currently picturing,” he asks JR, and grins when Ian kicks him under the table.

JR leans against him in the booth as he laughs, warm along Tyler’s side. Ian props his feet on the bench next to Tyler’s thigh and eyes Tyler across the table. “Ty, you should wear a toga now, because in ten years you’ll want wardrobe to cover you in all the clothes they can find.”

“Like Tyler will ever find a wardrobe staff who _won’t_ put him in clothes two sizes too small,” JR snorts, and Tyler rolls his eyes. 

“It’s not _that_ bad,” he grumbles, but they laugh because no, really, it kind of is that bad.

*

Tyler absolutely googles that shit when he gets home. 

Ian was right - he looked fantastic in a toga. Tyler spends more time looking at his legs than he probably should, considering his trailer is next to the guy’s.

*

Tyler’s not always invited along for Argent-Hale adventures. He sees pictures of Ian and JR on Ian’s phone, both in black from head-to-toe, motorcycles gleaming in the sun. Ian looks like a movie star; JR looks dangerous and sexy. They were taken one of the days they were both back in LA while Tyler was still in Atlanta. 

“Wow, looks like you had a great time,” Tyler says, and he can feel that the smile on his face isn’t quite right. 

“We would have invited you if you were in LA,” Ian says with a small frown, and Tyler feels like a jerk.

“I don’t really ride anyway,” he tells them.

“Next time,” JR says, wrapping an arm firmly around Tyler’s shoulders and grinning broadly at Ian, “Ian and I will teach you the joy of having 175 horses between your thighs.”

Tyler honestly would have caught the double-entendre anyway, but Ian’s eye roll drives it home. It’s the blush that creeps along his own cheeks that surprises him.

*

There are always rumors. Tyler has been in LA for long enough that he pretty much ignores them. But the Teen Wolf set is small, and the crew and cast are close, and it makes the rumor mill even worse. It’s like high school, only this time Tyler actually hangs out with the cool kids and hears the good gossip.

“No, he totally did,” Posey’s saying when Tyler plops down in his chair in the hair trailer at ass-o’clock in the morning. Jennifer is shaking her head as she styles Posey’s hair into Scott’s artful mop.

“Who did what?” Tyler asks, because it’s too early even for his morning sudoku puzzles.

“JR totally took home one of the extras from last week, dude,” Poseys says, grinning. Tyler tries to remember who was new last week. They’d only had a few crowd scenes and no one stood out to him.

“Was it the girl with the lip ring?” he asks. She doesn’t seem like JR’s type, but Tyler remembers Dylan pointing her out. Jennifer smirks. Posey just blinks at him.

“Uh, no, dude. JR wasn’t even there that day. It was the hunters scene. He totally picked up that dude with the spiky hair.”

“Um,” Tyler says, because it’s too early for his brain to process the idea of JR picking up _anyone_ , much less some strange _guy_. He feels suddenly warm.

“You know,” Posey continues, like he can’t believe Tyler didn’t notice. “The blond-ish one. Dylan called him the DILF-hunter!”

It’s not true. Tyler’s pretty sure it’s not true, at least. “I seriously doubt that,” Jennifer says, and Tyler feels a wave of... it’s not exactly relief, but at least Tyler’s whole worldview isn’t resting on _Posey being observant_ anymore. “I mean, I’m pretty sure we _all_ know who he went home with, Ty.”

Posey deflates. “Yeah, I know, they’re practically married. But he was totally flirting with that dude.”

Jennifer grins at them both. “Yeah, but when the fuck is JR _not_ flirting?” They’re off on a tangent then, and Tyler tries to relax as Jennifer’s assistant preps his hair with a generous helping of BedHead.

He blinks at himself in the mirror. _They’re practically married._ He would have noticed if JR were fooling around with someone from the set. The only person Tyler ever saw him leave with was Ian. And JR and Ian weren’t...

Rumors are hard to shake, is the thing. And Tyler doesn’t listen to them. Mostly.

*

It’s hard not to notice things, once he’s looking. The way JR stays long after he’s wrapped for the day, watching Tyler and Ian finish a scene. The way Ian shows up for scenes rumpled from his trailer, but only on days JR is on set. They don’t arrive together, but they leave together more days than they don’t. Even days when JR and Ian drag Tyler along with them, they always manage to call Tyler his own car. He assumed they were each taking their own after he left, but now he’s not so sure.

*

It’s Holland who confirms it.

“Oh, yeah, definitely hooking up,” she says when Tyler tries to subtly ask if she’s noticed that Ian and JR spend a lot of time together.

“You’re _sure_ though?” he says, because he’s got suspicions, but... She throws him an amused look. 

“Honey, yes,” she says and Tyler leans back on the couch in her trailer and exhales. It’s good that he knows, he thinks. It’s better than driving himself crazy wondering. He just wishes they’d _told_ him. 

Holland curls up against his side and props her chin on his shoulder. “They haven’t been talking about it on set,” she says, because Holland can read everyone’s mind like she’s psychic. It doesn’t even phase Tyler anymore. 

“We hang out, though,” he says. “Like, not here.” He looks down at his hands where they’re curled into fists; he makes himself relax them, finger by finger. “I wouldn’t have told anyone,” he says quietly and Holland sighs.

“I know, sweetie,” she says. “I don’t think they’ve told anyone, really. I think they’re both old school enough that they don’t talk about their personal shit very much.”

Tyler nods, but he knows that isn’t true. He knows all about Ian’s fights with his sisters, about evil exes and directors neither of them will ever work with again. When JR has enough beers in him, he’ll talk about his dad, and how he was a boxer when he was younger, and now he can barely hold a spoon, the brain damage is so bad. He doesn’t think Holland knows any of that, and he’s not going to tell her. 

Tyler’s good at keeping secrets. It’s what good friends do. He’s just not sure why they haven’t told him _this_ one.

*

He worries it over and over in his head - do they think he wouldn’t want to be friends with them anymore? Tyler knows he comes off as a goody-two-shoes half the time, but he hopes he doesn’t read as the kind of guy who would peace out all “no homo” style if he was told two of his friends were a couple.

Maybe they think it would make things awkward, like Tyler would think he’s a third wheel when they hung out. Or maybe they aren’t really a couple at all - maybe it’s just hooking up, and they don’t want Ty to get the wrong idea and think it’s more?

He watches them, though, and he’s not sure the last one makes sense. If they were just hooking up, would Ian know exactly what JR would want from the craft services table and make sure to take the pickles out of his sandwiches? Would JR bitch out the stunt coordinators when Ian gets banged up during a fight scene, Ian pulling him away by the elbow to talk quietly in the corner until JR goes from scary rage-face to merely annoyed? 

It looks to Tyler like they’re more, like this is something kind of serious, and maybe they were right not to tell him because as soon as Tyler has that thought, his stomach twists, and he wonders if maybe he’s the third wheel after all.

The Argent-Hale Drinking Club is one of the best things in Tyler’s life, but now he wonders why it even exists, if Ian and JR have each other. But they still drag him off to Murphy’s a few nights a week, and Tyler goes, because he’s happier when he’s with them, even if they’re just being nice.

*

It’s been hours already and Ian signals the waitress for another round. Tyler settles back in the booth and lets some of tension of the day ease out of his shoulders. Some nights he only stays for a drink or two, since he has early call for make-up, but tomorrow is a night shoot so Tyler can sleep in. “You good?” Ian asks him as JR flirts with the waitress who brings them a pitcher of something frothy and hopefully light. Tyler’s trainer is amazing, but he’s also kind of an asshole.

“Yeah, ‘m good,” Tyler replies with a smile, and Ian grins back.

“Good,” he says. “It’s been a good day.” 

JR turns back to them. “Gentlemen,” he says, raising his glass, “to another week of getting paid to look sexy.” 

Ian laughs and clinks his glass against JR’s, and Tyler can’t help but notice how close they’re sitting, not an inch of space between them on the bench. Ian’s smile when he looks at JR reaches to his eyes, and when JR puts his beer down and slides one arm over Ian’s shoulders, his fingers slip through the hair at the nape of Ian’s neck. They look comfortable and happy and Ty’s pretty sure Ian’s hand is resting high on JR’s thigh under the table. It’s like they aren’t even trying to hide it anymore. 

Ian rolls his head onto JR’s shoulder, and Tyler jumps a little as JR’s foot nudges against his calf. 

“You okay, Ty?” JR says, voice low and teasing, and Tyler suddenly has to just. Go.

“Hey, sorry, I’m actually wiped,” he manages, grabbing his jacket and his phone and sliding out of the booth as gracefully as he can. “See you guys tomorrow.”

“Ty,” he hears Ian call after him, but JR says something low that makes Ian stop, and Tyler suddenly feels like he’s running a fever. The car ride home is excruciating - he can’t help but think that he’s feeling something all wrong, that he isn’t ... but he is. He’s mortified, but he’s also half-hard from just being near them. He presses the heel of his hand against his fly but that only makes him imagine Ian’s hand on JR, hidden in the dark of their corner booth.

He fumbles inside, scraping his keys against the door like he’s drunker than he really is. The living room of his rental apartment smells like rum and stale weed, and it makes his stomach turn. “Hey,” Posey calls over from the couch. He’s baked and watching Adult Swim, and Dylan is passed out cold next to him, face smushed into the pillows. “We thought you’d be out with Jay and Ian for a while, or I would have saved you some!” He waves a pipe in Tyler’s general direction.

“Just wiped,” he lies to Posey too. “Gonna crash.” He closes the door to his bedroom a little more forcefully than intended, leaning against the inside of it. He’s already flipping back through the evening, back to the look on JR’s face when he asked if Tyler was okay, back to Ian’s hand on JR’s leg. The moment Tyler left they probably paid their tab and headed back to JR’s to... 

And he hasn’t thought about that part of it, the part where Ian’s slow smile would collide with JR’s sexy grin. About Ian’s head thrown back, about JR’s strong hands tucked in the back of Ian’s jeans, about the sounds they would make as skin hit bare skin. But now he can’t seem to _stop_.

Tyler yanks the button of his jeans open almost violently, shoves them just far enough down his hips that he can grab his dick. He’s flushed with embarrassment, but he’s also hard enough that it doesn’t take much more than a minute of picturing Ian writhing in JR’s lap on JR’s black leather sofa before he’s coming all over his fist, breath knocked out of him like he’s been punched.

He stays there for a long moment, panting through the aftershocks, before stripping down, wiping himself off with his t-shirt and crawling into bed. He’s angry they started letting him tag along, if they were just going to be weird and cryptic and make him think these things. He’s tired, and he’s freaking out, and he _can’t stop thinking about them_. 

He falls asleep still horny and with a vague sense of jealousy lingering over everything, though if you asked him, Tyler couldn’t tell you for the life of him who he’s jealous _of_.

*

“Hey,” Ian comes to find him the next morning, his face serious as he knocks on the door to Tyler’s trailer. 

“Hey,” Tyler says, and he hopes his blush isn’t visible under the layers of makeup. “Sorry I was so lame last night.”

“No, don’t even worry about it,” Ian leans back against the wall, like he’s not sure Tyler wants him sitting down. It makes Tyler feel like even more of a dick. “We were - I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Tyler lies, and he thinks he’d getting way too good at lying to his friends. Or maybe not, because Ian’s face is pinched like he doesn’t really believe him. Tyler takes a deep breath and lets it out. Ian opens his mouth to speak again, but Tyler beats him to it. “I’m not - I mean, I’ll _be_ fine. I just have some shit I’m dealing with,” he says, because that’s as close to the truth as he’s going to manage without saying, _I’m a weird, jealous moron who is trying not to be a creeper about you and your boyfriend_.

“Okay,” Ian says gently. He pushes off from the wall and comes to sit next to Tyler on the small loveseat. “You know you can talk to us, if you need to,” he says, and Tyler feels the weight behind that “us” like a punch to the gut. 

“Yeah,” he says quietly, because what else can he do? Ian reaches a hand out like he’s going to touch Tyler, pat him on the back, bro-style, and Tyler stands up abruptly. “They probably need me out there,” he says even though they definitely don’t, but Ian just nods and lets it go. He doesn’t look any happier than Tyler feels.

*

Tyler is not an idiot. He can tell when people are talking about him and the way Ian and JR clam up when he walks on set, the way he can see them looking at him when they’re standing close (so close, how do they think they’re being subtle?), well. Ian and JR are talking about him. It makes Tyler want to scream and throw things, and also makes him want to hide in his trailer and never come out. But mostly it makes him want to go back in time and _not know_ they’re together. Mostly he wishes he could jump in the car with them and head to Murphy’s and have a great time laughing with his friends.

Instead, he spends the whole week leaving the set as quickly as possible to go home, and then locks himself away in his room to avoid Posey and Dylan. He tells them he’s getting sick. What he’s really doing is brooding, interrupted by bouts of jerking off to the mental image of JR fucking Ian over his breakfast bar.

He clearly has a problem.

*

By lunch on Friday, Tyler is already planning his escape for the evening. Maybe that’s why he doesn’t notice JR until he’s twenty paces from the lunch area, halfway down the hall with a full plate in his hand. 

“Tyler,” JR says and Tyler startles enough that a few chips roll off his plate. 

“ _Jesus_ ,” he barks. JR smiles at him and takes a step closer.

“We missed you this week,” he says, and there’s that fucking “we” that Tyler’s learning to hate. JR looks him over, a slow, deliberate slide of his gaze from Tyler’s thighs up to his face. “You look like you’re feeling better,” he notes, taking a few more easy steps forward.

“Um, yeah,” Tyler manages, but his mouth is suddenly really dry and JR is suddenly way closer.

“Good,” JR says, leaning close enough that Tyler’s can smell his aftershave. “You should come out tonight.” It’s low in Tyler’s ear, like he’s telling him a secret. Tyler barely suppresses a shiver.

“I don’t -,” Tyler starts, but JR won’t stop looking at him and Tyler’s pulse is racing. JR’s grin turns a little feral, and Tyler can’t remember what he was saying.

“You’re definitely coming out with us,” he says, his voice amused but gravelly, and Tyler just nods. Anything to get him a few steps away from JR’s warmth and toward the safety of his own trailer. “I’ll find you later,” JR says to his retreating back, and Tyler hates the thrill it gives him.

JR’s true to his word, too. Since lunch, either Ian or JR have been where he is, far enough away that it doesn’t seem like they’re stalking him, but always in sight. It’s fucking distracting, and Tyler messes up more than one line reading from it. By the time the director announces him done for the day he’s jittery, and JR appears at his elbow just as he’s heading back to his trainer. “I have to get to wardrobe,” Tyler says but JR just steers him to the side door of the building. 

“Bring them back later, no one will care,” he says, and Ian is already there, leaning against the wall in worn jeans and a navy t-shirt, his hair wet from the shower. Tyler is clearly not going to get a shower, but Ian at least has Tyler’s messenger bag slung over his shoulder, the one he leaves in his trailer.

“You’re sneaky bastards,” he tells them. Ian smiles up at him. 

“We’re not actually all that sneaky,” he says, and JR laughs as he pushes Tyler into a waiting towncar. 

“Murphy’s,” JR says to the driver, and Tyler tries to remember how to breathe as they both press in close on either side of him.

*

An hour later, Tyler’s stopped dreaming about escape and has resigned himself to dying in this booth. It’s possible he’ll die of shame, but it’s equally possible he’ll die from lack of blood to his brain, since most of his is currently located in his groin. Ian and JR are both particularly _on_ tonight; Ian claimed the spot on the bench next to Tyler, squeezing him in next to the wall. JR just keeps _looking_ at Ian, and then Tyler, and then Ian again, with this smile that Tyler has no idea how to read. Ian basically ignores him, leaning into Tyler and telling him funny stories, half of which involve JR looking like an idiot. JR doesn’t seem to mind.

It’s terrible, and also Tyler has missed this _so much_ , and he wouldn’t mind staying forever.

Tyler picks up his drink - he’s stopped counting how many he’s had, since JR just refills his glass whenever it looks mildly empty - and Ian rests his head on Tyler’s shoulder.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he says with a sigh, and Tyler smiles despite himself. 

“Me too,” he replies, and Ian rubs his cheek on Tyler’s shoulder like an overgrown cat. JR growls at them playfully. “You are totally weird,” Tyler laughs and Ian grins up at him.

“Yeah, but you like us,” Ian says and what can Tyler even say to that?

Ian pushes himself upright and slides out of the booth. “Bathroom,” he says and leaves Tyler there with JR grinning at him from across the table, not saying a word. 

Tyler can take it for about sixty seconds before he breaks. “What?” 

JR just stands up smoothly and drains his beer. “Better go see what’s taking Ian so long,” he says, and it’s laced with more innuendo than Tyler can even process. “Don’t leave,” he adds firmly, and Tyler swallows. 

JR disappears down the dark hallway at the back of the bar and Tyler refills his glass again and tries not to think about what the hell is going on in the bathroom. He pulls out his phone, but the only messages are from Posey demanding he bring home ice cream, and one from Dylan that just says “You and JR disappeared fast” with a winky-face. 

It’s only been a few minutes, but he’s anxious, itchy under his skin. _They aren’t having sex in the bathroom at Murphy’s_ , he tries to tell himself. But if they _are_ , it’s mere feet from where Tyler’s sitting right now. He’s flustered, prickling hot and cold all over. His dick is pressing uncomfortably against his zipper every time he shifts in his seat. They are, or they aren’t, and maybe Tyler will be able to tell when they get back, but maybe he _won’t_. It’s excruciating.

He makes it another minute before he slides out of the booth and follows after them. He just needs to _know_.

*

It’s a long hall with three doors off it, each hiding a single-seat, uni-sex bathroom. The first two are empty, which is... I mean, Tyler’s not great at math, especially when he’s halfway to drunk, but that means - okay, it means pretty much exactly what he thought it would mean, which means he should just go back to the booth and finish the pitcher at the table. But he has to _know_. He has to know if JR has Ian pressed against the inside of the door, if they’re trying to be quiet or if they assume the loud music played through the bar speakers will cover any sounds they make. 

He pauses outside the last door and strains to listen. He doesn’t hear anything, not a murmur, not a gasp. He thinks for a frantic second that maybe they’ve gone, maybe they forgot all about him in their rush to have their hands on each other. 

He reaches out to try the handle, but it’s locked. “Sorry,” he says automatically, and he takes a step back when he hears the lock rattle on the other side. 

“Hey, Ty,” JR says and oh, oh god, the door is open just enough for Tyler to see JR leaning against the wall, his smile more feral than ever, and _fuck_ , Ian on his knees.

“Sorry,” he says again, the word scraping past his vocal chords. 

“Are you, really,” JR says, raising one eyebrow, and Tyler hears Ian huff in annoyance.

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Ian says, leaning back on his knees. “Ty, come on, get in here.”

Tyler is frozen. He is frozen, or maybe he’s asleep, which would make much more sense than this. But this is so much dirtier than anything Tyler’s dreamed up in the dark of his bedroom - the bare bulb on the ceiling, the stale smell of beer and piss and industrial soap, the offensive graffiti on the walls. When JR reaches through the open door and tugs on his arm, saying “come on, pretty boy, we’ve been waiting for you,” Tyler doesn’t fight it. He walks through the door and closes it behind him, and wonders when he fell down this particular rabbit hole.

“Lock it,” JR says, and Tyler’s fingers feel clumsy, but he manages. “Now c’mere,” JR pulls him closer, until they’re standing side-by-side against the wall, JR’s arm snaked around his waist, Ian kneeling at their feet. From this angle, Tyler can see JR’s dick straining against his open fly; the fabric is wet over the top of it, and Tyler thinks Ian must have done that, must have put his mouth there and blown JR through his clothes.

“You okay, Ty?” Ian asks, but he’s smiling wide now, one hand running up the back of Tyler’s thigh. 

“Um,” Tyler manages, and JR reaches over to tug open the button on Tyler’s jeans. He leans in close, his nose brushing the shell of Tyler’s ear.

“Your safeword is ‘Posey’,” he murmurs, and Tyler laughs, startled.

“Fuck you,” he says, and JR’s mouth is on his before he’s even stopped laughing. The kiss is firm and hot, but sweet in a way that Tyler wouldn’t have imagined - _hasn’t_ imagined. He’s just relaxing into it when Ian’s deft fingers pull at his zipper, slip inside to rub him through the cotton of his briefs. “Oh,” he gasps into JR’s mouth, but JR doesn’t let him up for air. He holds Tyler close with one hand at his waist and the other tucked firmly around the nape of his neck as Ian pulls his jeans and underwear down inch by inch, as he breathes hot over Tyler’s dick, flicks his tongue against Tyler’s balls. “Fuck, I can’t,” Tyler says, breaking away, and he’s not sure what he can’t do - can’t breathe, can’t hold on for much longer, can’t not watch Ian slowly suck Tyler down?

Tyler wants to scream, it’s so good, but he can hear the music from the bar through the door. They’re in public, and this is the stupidest thing Tyler has ever done, hands down, but it’s _so good_ , the way Ian’s fingers dig into his thighs, JR’s breath hot against his neck. “Is it as good as you imagined?” JR asks, and Tyler’s nodding before he hears JR chuckle and realizes he was talking to _Ian_. JR reaches his hand out and twists it in Ian’s short hair. Ian moans. It sends shockwaves up Tyler’s spine and his hips jerk forward before he can stop them. 

“Sorry,” he gasps.

But JR holds Ian’s head steady and leans in. “Do it, fuck his mouth.” Tyler looks down and Ian looks positively filthy with Tyler’s dick in his mouth, the long line of his neck taut as JR tugs his head back just a fraction. He can feel the moment Ian relaxes into JR’s grip, the way his jaw goes just a little slacker, his eyes sliding nearly closed. “Oh my god,” Tyler mumbles, already pushing a fraction into wet, tight heat. 

“It’s okay,” JR tells him, “go ahead.” Tyler curls one hand into the back of JR’s shirt and lets his hips move a little faster, then a little more, fucking into Ian’s mouth until he can feel his dick bumping against the back of Ian’s throat. He’s _never_ done this, not with anyone he’s ever fucked; he’s not sure he’ll ever forget it either, as Ian swallows around him with a harsh wet sound. 

“Oh fuck, fuck, Jay, I’m -,” Tyler can’t tell how loud he is - he can’t hear anything but the blood flowing past his own ears - until JR takes his hand off Ian’s head to slap it over Tyler’s mouth. He’s coming, hard enough that his knees buckle for a moment and Ian has to push his hips against the wall as he finishes Tyler off, as he sucks him dry. JR slowly takes his hand away, and Tyler takes a deep breath. “Holy...,” he manages and JR grins and leans in to kiss him again. 

Ian’s forehead is resting against Tyler’s bare hip, and he reaches down to touch him, to pet his hair. “You okay?” Tyler asks, and while Ian’s responding “oh, yeah,” sounds like it went through a lawnmower, his eyes are gleaming, crinkled at the corners with a grin when he looks up.

“Get up here,” JR orders, and Ian rolls his eyes at tone, but he stands up. He groans once he’s on his feet, pressing his hands on his knees. 

“God, I am too old for this shit,” he says, and JR levels him with a look. 

“Well, I am definitely _not_ , so shut up.” 

“Bossy,” Ian mouths at Tyler, and Tyler smiles at him. 

“Hey,” Tyler says, reaching out. Ian fits against his chest perfectly, and Tyler kisses him, hot and slow, tasting himself on Ian’s tongue as the feeling comes back to his extremities. 

The kiss is languid, liquid, so Tyler is surprised when Ian jerks against him, his teeth scraping Tyler’s bottom lip as he gasps. 

“Are you okay?” Tyler asks, and Ian just huffs a laugh against his shoulder. 

“Seriously, the bathroom at Murphy’s, Jay?” Ian says, and Tyler can feel JR’s hand snaking between them, tugging Ian’s jeans over his hips. “We _discussed_ this. Discretion is the better part of valor, remember?”

“And yet I don’t see you actually objecting,” JR says almost conversationally, even though Tyler is watching him rip open a condom wrapper. “Ty, shut this guy up.” JR’s jeans are still hanging open and Tyler watches as he pulls his dick free, stroking it twice before rolling on the condom. He’s going to fuck Ian, right here in a _public bathroom_ , and the way he’s looking at Tyler, he might be next. It sends a thrill down Tyler’s spine that obliterates any common sense he has left. 

Ian hums a little as JR slides in behind him, noses against Tyler’s throat until he tilts his head down enough to kiss him again. JR is _right there_ , Tyler can hear him breathing, and he knows the second JR presses his dick inside Ian, starts slowly fucking him open, because Ian shakes in his arms and lets out a string of breathy profanity against Tyler’s lips. 

“Shhh,” Tyler says, more to calm him than keep him actually quiet, and when he looks up JR is watching Tyler’s face, his mouth open, his eyes shockingly blue. Tyler’s already mostly hard again, probably because nothing this hot has ever happened to him in his lifetime.

“Fuck,” JR swears as Ian pushes back against him, and JR picks up the pace until Ian is practically boneless, being held up by JR on one side and Tyler on the other. “Ty,” JR says tightly, “Give him a hand, okay?”

Ian jerks when Tyler closes his fast around Ian’s dick. “Yeah, shit,” Ian pants. He has one hand curled around JR’s thigh, urging him forward, and the other braced against Tyler’s shoulder, and he has no leverage at all to thrust into Tyler’s hand; Tyler mostly sets pace with JR, letting each thrust push Ian’s dick into the tight circle of Tyler’s fist until Ian comes with a nearly silent gasp, hot and wet against Tyler’s skin. 

JR stays perfectly still for a long moment, his forehead pressed to the back of Ian’s neck, eyes closed. They all three just breathe together, the air between them sticky and too warm. JR finally looks up with a grin. “You got him?” he says, and Tyler wraps his arm around Ian’s waist as JR slowly pulls out. Ian groans, but when he rolls his head back to look at Tyler, he’s flushed and grinning. 

“That was fucking amazing,” Ian slurs, and JR smacks a kiss to the side of his head. 

“And you doubted me.” He tosses the condom in the trash and washes up at the sink, tucking his still-hard dick back in his jeans and zipping them up. Tyler gapes.

“Are you -,” he starts, but JR walks past them to the door. 

“Wash up, I’m going to go pay the bill, and we’re leaving. You’ve got two minutes,” he says, and Tyler looks down at Ian and himself in dismay. 

“You’re serious,” Ian says, laughing.

JR shrugs. “You’re the one who wanted to get him in a bed.”

“Me,” Tyler asks, because he thinks that’s probably obvious, but just in case. “Right?”

“You are not possibly that dumb,” JR says. “I’m blaming the orgasm.”

Ian tucks one hand in Tyler’s back pocket. “The Argent-Hale Fucking Club has approved you for membership,” Ian says with perfect mock sincerity. 

“You in or out, kid?” JR grins at him, leaning on the door with his arms crossed. 

Tyler is so, so in.


End file.
